Sequence: Late March

Swatches of sky

unroll themselves,

indigo tricks played

beyond the balcony—

 

I can't do this

                            so I have to try

 

*

 

Insert your place-names:

stickers on luggage,

postcards from halcyon days.

 

*

 

Bless guesses. When we compare,

we despair. Presume good will

on the part of your fellows.

 

Julian of Norwich, pray for me.

 

*

 

Ralph wishes his students

weren't so damn "linear."

 

How do we get the mind to leap,

to frisk and play, antic and limber

with irrepressible vim?

 

*

 

Hart Crane, Dylan Thomas,

enfants terribles, lushes canonised

by the crowd's acclaim,

mesmerisers mighty, knuckle and sculpt,

shove and thrust.

 

*

 

Tremulous rosaries.

 

Pious litanies

hurled at the night

in holy desperation.

 

Sky daubed white

with a wide-awake moon.

 

*

 

It opens at six o'clock,

the doughnut shop,

each honey-dipped disc

homey and consoling

as Mom's afghans, as cartoons

on Saturday mornings

forty-odd years ago.

 

Workers, flannelled

and affable, begin their day

with coffee taken black as

a winter's morning.

 

*

 

Chance stops

habit from hardening

into mortal rigor.

 

I know what I mean.

Custom can deaden

unless luck enlivens.

 

*

 

To say that the poems

I read as a youth

had "scriptural significance"

would be selling them short.





Poetry by Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 33 times
Written on 2021-03-31 at 03:59

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Thomas these are powerful. Some are tinged with despair but redeeming; others soar. All are brilliant.
2021-03-31


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Two of these are in the realm of Lowell and Sexton and Berryman, and they are dark, and they are fine.
2021-03-31